


Druid's Underground

by SnowWight



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 20:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWight/pseuds/SnowWight
Summary: Merlin's work at Druid's Underground brings him into close contact with plenty of people who want to see him and his fellow magic users gone, but he never expected the most outspoken to move into the apartment next to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I know nothing about England or London, and no one beta'd this, so if anyone sees any problems and wants to let me know, you can reach me at heartsdeuces.tumblr.com . I hope you enjoy!

Merlin shuddered under the weight of the cold, bringing his hoodie closer around him. Coming out from their subterranean offices was always a shock, the air at street level somehow more frigid than that just below the sidewalk. He pulled his gloves out from his pocket and shook them out, sliding them over his frozen fingers. 

He thought about hailing a cab, and then decided against it. It was only seven blocks, and it would be nice to walk after sitting all day. Morgana’d had him sat in his chair since eight that morning doing damage control, even dropping off a sandwich for him to eat at the desk. 

He understood her desperation. All press was bad press for the Druid’s Underground, Britain’s last society of free magic users, and in the Guardian this morning, an Op-Ed claiming magical supremacy and destruction for everyone who wasn’t, was being attributed to them. The following uproar had resulted in a crack-of-dawn wake up call for Merlin, with Morgana’s desperate plea on the other end of the line that he get down to headquarters as fast as he could. 

Merlin, of course, was happy that the majority of the city was looking for answers in the right place—a collective of highly trained magic users instead of, say, some tabloid or crazy person—but he strongly felt that he had better things to do with his time. “Look, Morg,” he’d said that morning as Morgana had wrestled him into a seat at a desk and handed him a headset, ”you know I’m shit at customer service.” 

“I know you’re shit at customer service,” she said, her eyes flashing dangerously. When she was mad, her hair moved around her like a living being, and now it curled up above her head and brushed across Merlin’s wrists, “but we need every many we can. I even have Mordred taking press calls, and Jesus fuck, what was I thinking,” 

She dropped him and his hands and swept across the basement they inhabited to take a headset off of Mordred’s ears. He was a good kid, he just didn’t know when to stop talking. Merlin groaned and leaned back into the worn chair, closing his eyes, before leaning in and hooking his headset up to the phone line. There were so many better things he could be doing with his time, like finding out who’d set the damn bomb in the first place. 

It had been a long day. He’d spent an hour on the phone with an agitated lady from the Daily Mail, who was practically insisting that there must be some conspiracy surrounding the whole bomb, i.e. that it had been the work of the Druid’s Underground. Merlin would agree that there was a conspiracy, but he couldn’t think of one person in the DU who’d be willing to sacrifice their lives for such a stunt. He got her off the phone as quickly as he could, but still. It had taken a whole hour. 

Just thinking about it, he could feel a tension headache starting to build. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he pressed the passcode for the building. It was condo of sorts, with flats on each floor. Merlin lived on the third floor, an aerie among the eaves. 

He’d long been able to afford another flat, but he liked this one too much. And, it was so close to work. Shutting the door behind him, he took on the flight of stairs, the familiar burn settling into his thighs. Rounding the second floor landing, though, a box took him by surprise, and he found himself face down in the carpet, him arms pinned awkwardly at his sides.  
He groaned and sat up, rubbing his nose again. His legs were tangled over a cardboard box, and he was surrounded by them on three sides. The new neighbor! he realized. Missy Plemmons had moved out last weekend, and he should have been expecting someone new. Clutching onto the spindles of the bannister, he pulled himself up to a crouching position, his legs still awkwardly over the box. 

The door—the fucking door—opened at just the wrong time to catch him in the most awkward position. Cursing, Merlin struggled upright, trying to ignore the man watching him from the doorway. 

“And you are?” the man said, his voice low. 

Merlin, finding balance on his own two feet, brushed himself off and finally looked up. “Your new neighbor!” he said, smiling just as bright as he could. And hot damn was this man worth his smiles. His blonde hair flopped unkemptly over his forehead, and his shoulders were twice as big as Merlin’s. He didn’t look happy, though, his features set into a sullen line. “Uh—“ Merlin stuck out his hand. “Merlin. Emerson.” 

The man looked him up and down, and a small smile broke out across his hard face. “Next time you should watch where you’re going. I’m Arthur, Pendragon.” 

Merlin could see the man’s reaction to his own, involuntary startle. “Pendragon?” he said, instead of saying what he wanted to say. “You’re telling me that I’ll be living just upstairs from London’s most eligible bachelor?” 

Pendragon looked taken aback, and Merlin hoped he couldn’t hear how his heart beat a staccato panic against his collarbone. “Excuse me now?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin faked a laugh. “Oh, sorry, I just read that in some tabloid somewhere.” Hopefully it was a believable lie—that was just what Morgana called him on her good days. Usually with a sneer, though. “It just—got caught in my head. You know?” 

Arthur laughed, a rumble in his chest, but he still looked nervous. Too nervous, Merlin thought, for a stairway conversation, but who was Merlin to talk. “Well, I have a girlfriend,” Arthur said. “So.” 

“Oh, my bad! Must have been an old tabloid,” Merlin smiled, hoping he didn’t seem too stiff. “While, I’ve got to go warm up, it’s fucking freezing out there! Have a good night!” he said, making sure to not trip over any boxes as he made his escape. 

“Wait, Merlin!” Merlin turned around, to find Arthur smiling tentatively at him. “That is your name, right?” 

Merlin tried to smile. “Yeah.” 

“Right, well.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Would you give me your number? So that we can do neighborly things together. I don’t want to just. Awkwardly run into you all the time.” 

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Merlin said, gritting his teeth behind his smile, and he came back down the staircase. He typed his number into Arthur’s phone as fast as he could, before escaping. “Call me if you need anything!” he yelled over his shoulder as he raced up the stairs to home, sweet home. 

The first thing he did, after dropping his bag on the couch and kicking his shoes across the room, was call Gaius. “Guess who moved in downstairs!” he said, before Gaius even had a chance to greet him. 

“Who?” Gaius said, his voice already tired with Merlin’s antics. 

“No, listen, this is worth calling and yelling about, this isn’t another woman-with-the-gardenias fiasco.” 

Gaius’s small chuckled crackled over the phone line. “Well, get on with it then, I don’t have all day.” 

“Arthur Pendragon. Arthur-fucking-Pendragon. Gaius, he’s going to find out I’m a magic user and then he’s going to kill me, and he and his father are going to parade my dead corpse around the Palace of Westminster and everyone will throw stones on my corpse and Mum will watch on live TV.” Merlin took a deep breath as he finished, realizing that he was nearing hyperventilation territory. 

“Right,” Gaius said after a minute, and Merlin could practically hear him rubbing his forehead in exasperation. “First of all, they haven’t had a public stoning in centuries, and I doubt that Uther Pendragon would be allowed anywhere near your corpse—“ 

Merlin opened his mouth to say that that wasn’t really the problem with his scenario, but Gaius cut him off again, his voice growing louder. 

“—And Secondly, you can just move.” 

Merlin took a moment, then started spluttering. “This is my house! He’s not going to drive me out of my house!” 

Gaius’s silence spoke volumes. 

“Yeah, okay,” Merlin relented. “I’ll calm down, stop shouting, and go look up other flats in the area. Okay? But this is my house, and I’ll resent him forever for kicking me out of it.” 

"There are a lot of other reasons you should resent the Pendragons,” Gaius said mildly. 

“I know,” Merlin said heavily. “I know.” 

He passed an hour listening to Gaius talk about his chickens, before begging exhaustion. When he came out of the shower, he found a message from Arthur on his screen. >Drinks?< it asked. 

>Sorry, settling in for the night, maybe some other time<, Merin wrote back, his heart sinking heavily in his chest. He really needed to find a new place to live.


	2. Chapter 2

After watching Merlin jackrabbit up the stairs, Arthur started bringing in boxes from the landing. Through the open windows of his new flat, the gray light of the afternoon cast the place in shadows just this side of ominous. He stacked the boxes against each other on the living room wall, making sure that they were all organized by room. He didn’t have that much stuff, but still, unpacking it would be a hassle. 

He mulled over Merlin’s words as he worked, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach the more he thought about them. ‘The most eligible bachelor in London.’ What did that even mean? As far as the tabloids knew, he and Gwen were in the happiest relationship imaginable. He could count the people who knew otherwise on one hand—so how would this number include Merlin?

Just thinking about him made Arthur’s muscles tighten, and he didn’t know if it was because the way he hinted just at Arthur’s secret, or the way the way his smiles had lifted his entire face. 

Arthur had come out when he was fifteen and was promptly told to get back in the closet. Uther, his father, was a politician in high places, and Arthur figured that having a visible gay son was less than ideal when you’re taking a hard-line conservative stance to just about everything. Uther disliked women in places of power, magic, and, to Arthur’s dismay, homosexuals. 

He wouldn’t mind hiding it so much if Uther hadn’t hired Gwen to act as his beard. He didn’t mind not telling the truth, but lying about it tore through him on a daily basis. Especially lying about it with someone as lovely as Gwen, who deserved so much more. She told him that she didn’t mind, that she had her own life outside of him and she didn’t mind showing up occasionally to be on his arm for formal events, but the guilt still gnawed at him. 

He picked up his phone and turned it over in his hand. He’d watched Merlin type his number in, his blue eyes reflecting the screen of Arthur’s iPhone. He’d seen the look of shock that had jumped across Merlin’s face when he’d said his last name, something that was approaching panic. 

Merlin knew something. Arthur’s gut tightened thinking about it, and he opened his phone. >Drinks?< he typed, and then he sent it. He needed to do this. He needed to find out what Merlin knew. He kept reminding himself of that as he paced back and forth, his feet wearing a groove into the floors of his new flat. 

Ten minutes later, really closer to nine but who was counting, his phone vibrated, jittering across the lacquered surface of the shiny new coffee table, and Arthur lunged for it. >Sorry, settling in for the night, maybe some other time.<

Arthur’s heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach. It was only six in the evening, who was settling in for the night? Merlin was definitely avoiding him. Swallowing back fear and a little bit of bruised pride, he began to go through the boxes and group them by room, by use. One whole box was for files, stuff he needed for work. 

He had his television hooked up by nine, and turned it to a football game while he finished unpacking. He’d left his old flat last week, on the account of drunken and rowdy neighbors, and his sister had helped him find this place. 

“It’s almost quaint,” she’d said, picking at her nails as they stood in the empty room. “As quaint as you can get in this city.” 

Arthur had concurred. “And everyone’s pretty quiet?” he asked the landlady, who was standing behind the siblings, anxiously twisting her hands. She was an older lady, maybe in her eighties, and her gray hair was a birds nest of curls.

“Well, we sometimes get complaints about the upstairs neighbor,” she said, gesturing to right above their heads, “but he’s a lovely young man. And it’s no drunken revelries or anything of the sort, just loud music and that sort of thing. Missy would just bang on the ceiling with a broom.” 

Arthur nodded. “Well, if he’s too loud, I’ll be out of here pretty quick.” 

Morgana’d snorted and shook her head. “You’re too old for your age. He’ll take it,” she said, turning to the woman. She cut an impressive figure for house shopping, in a dark gray pantsuit with stilettos. Arthur figured that intimidation was just part of his sister’s business strategy, but it could be a little much at times. 

That had been Tuesday afternoon. Now, in the gloom of a fading Thursday night, Arthur found himself second-guessing his sister’s decision. The neighbor upstairs was Merlin—he didn’t look like the sort to be loud at all. Though, after he’d fled from Arthur, there had been a couple minutes of enthusiastic shouting coming from his room—

The pit in Arthur’s stomach had tightened again. He’d forgotten about that. Had Merlin been shouting about him on the phone? Maybe it was work. Or, maybe Merlin was some sort of paparazzi, so it was both Arthur and work. The possibilities of ways that Merlin could be screwing him over were endless. 

Arthur groaned and sat down heavily on the couch. A political group loosely affiliated with his father had contacted his firm earlier this morning, inquiring about legal action that could be taken against The Guardian in response to the letter that they’d published this morning. Something about how such extremism made the populace feel unsafe in their own homes. 

Arthur’s personal views on magic aside, the suit seemed like bullshit, but Leon liked to at least take a look at whatever they were given, as long as they were being paid by the hour. He picked up a file and flipped through it until his eyes wore out, and he gave into sleep right there on the couch, worries about Merlin melding into worries about work in his dreams. 

 

When he woke up, there was a message from Uther on his cell. He listened to it while making coffee, his back sore from the uncomfortable night spent on his couch. “I’d like you to take the Guardian case if it all possible . . . “ Uther’s voice faded in and out, echoing around the kitchen. “Something like this needs to be taken seriously . . . I know that you and Leon leave no stones unturned . . . contact me with your answer immediately.” 

Arthur sighed as the message ended. He was running his own law firm, there should be a time when he didn’t have to listen to his father, but that time never seemed to come. He’d talk about taking the case Leon, and if Leon made some convincing points, they would have to take it on. But as far as Arthur could tell, the case was bland, and relatively straightforward, with just enough political controversy to attract the wrong sort of attention. 

He finished his coffee and wiped the back of his mouth. He should be on the train in a half an hour—so, fifteen minutes to get dressed, fifteen minutes to run to the underground station. 

He struggled out of his shirt and went through the garment bags, looking for something that wasn’t jeans and a t-shirt. As he was opening one of the bags, he heard a light knock on the door. 

The landlady? Maybe. He opened the door to reveal a disheveled Merlin, wearing a scarf up to his nose, a jacket far bigger than it needed to be, a coffee cup pressed against his bottom lip. He smiled, slightly, when he saw Arthur, but took a step back when the door opened. 

“Hey,” he said, concentrating on Arthur’s face, instead of Arthur’s chest, which Arthur now realized was bare and very, very cold. “I just wanted to say sorry for yesterday. I don’t know if I gave you the warmest welcome, but I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

“Yeah, sure?” Arthur smiled, ages of worry lifted off of him. Merlin was just a nervous guy. “Drinks maybe later tonight? It’s Friday, yeah?” 

“Yeah, um.” Merlin bit his lip and looked around. “Yeah, sure, drinks sound good. Bring whomever, yeah? And we’ll meet in the pub down the street around half eight.” 

Arthur smiled, as widely as he could, and then remembered to tone it down. “Yeah, of course! See you then.” 

Merlin stepped back and gave him another small smile, waving slightly as he backed down the staircase. Arthur watched him go for just a moment too soon, and then shut the door quickly. He needed to get dressed, get some more coffee, find his files, and get to the train. 

Merlin was a problem for later tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur invited Morgana. For drinks. He texted her in the late afternoon, the anxiety of showing up alone to the bar turning over and over in his stomach for most of the workday. He was partner at a pretty prestigious firm, and he couldn’t forgive himself for the way his mind wandered away from his case to think about Merlin and the meet-up tonight. 

It was just a way to make friends, see who else was in the building. But if he showed up without someone, would he look lame? On impulse he invited his sister. >Drinks with me and my new neighbor?< he asked. She accepted immediately. 

Now, all Arthur had to do was wait. He debated inviting Gwen for most of his lunch hour, and then all the way through the downward spiral that was the end of the workday. If Merlin knew that they weren’t really dating, and then Gwen showed up, would that make him more suspicious or less suspicious? Would he even care? 

Why did Arthur care so much? Merlin was just some pasty-faced bastard who had the unfortunate habit of yelling into his phone and distracting Arthur from his television shows. 

He decided not to invite Gwen, if only to let her have some personal time for himself. He didn’t like bothering her unless it was an emergency. He left work with his heads in the clouds and his heart going at mock five, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. 

It was just drinks. With someone who knew something about him, that he shouldn’t. Arthur’s lips were chewed to hell as he went through his closet. Something casual, but not too casual. He didn’t want to show up to the bar in just jeans and a t-shirt if Merlin was going to be in something better. But, it was just a bar, right? And it was Merlin’s idea, so he couldn’t have thought too badly of Arthur in the first place. 

He finally settled on a blue graphic-tee and some light distressed jeans, but it was only six. He ate leftover take-out, standing over the fridge, and tried to play video games until he couldn’t remember anything anymore, his hands shaking. He should be working, he should be researching some case, but he couldn’t concentrate hard enough on one thing. 

Morgana rang his doorbell at eight, and he shouted for her to come in. She was still wearing her business clothes, her laptop bag in her hand. “Sorry,” she said, still breathing heavily. “Work was an absolute nightmare today, didn’t get out until just now.” 

Arthur shrugged. “What do you even do?” Morgana was his half-sister, and younger than him, and as such Uther didn’t supervise her as forcibly he did Arthur. Morgana’s job, and much of her life, was a complete mystery to her family. 

“None of your business.” Morgana flicked him on the side of the head. “Is Gwen coming?” she threw herself down onto the couch over the armrest.

“I told you, I decided not to bother her with this. We’re just meeting this guy at a pub, and he’s inviting some of his friends, it’s nothing she needs to be here for.” He shrugged off her hand as she wound it through his hair. 

“Alright, alright. You’ve made this place look nice since I’ve been here last.” 

“Right!” Arthur brightened up. He’d put a lot of work into arranging his furniture and putting his stuff away over the last few days. “Thanks. You should see the bedroom, I got a new carpet and everything matches. It’s really soothing.” 

Morgana laughed. “You’re a nut, but I love you. How far away is this pub?” 

“Not ten minutes. It’s about four blocks down towards all those shops and such. I think that’s about where you work, isn’t it?” 

Morgana nodded, slowly. “The Dragon’s Den?” 

Arthur nodded, his fingers flying over the controls of the game. He wanted to at least get to a place where he could save before he stopped playing, though, if he was being honest with himself, he was just delaying he inevitable.

“Yeah, that’s right where I work,” she said, slowly, like something was just dawning on her. "It's where we usually go for drinks." 

“Well, sorry to make you come down here just to go back again.” Arthur saved the game and turned off his console. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Yep, all set.” Morgana stretched out her hands to him, and he pulled his sister off the couch. 

As they walked back out into the frigid night, Arthur started fretting again. “I wonder who he’ll bring.” 

“Who he’ll bring . . .?” Morgana pulled her scarf up around her mouth. 

“Yeah, Merlin. He said we should just bring friends, make it a sort of casual get together, but now I’m nervous who he’ll bring. And if he’ll think I’m lame for bringing my sister.” 

Morgana coughed. 

“Not that you’re lame. But, I should have more friends then just my sister, at this point.” Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets, and willed himself to shut up. 

“Merlin, did you say?” Morgana asked the question almost delicately. 

“Yeah. Isn’t that a weird name? He face planted over all my stuff, and he spends his evenings having shouting arguments on his phone. I did tell you he was my neighbor, right?” God fucking dammit, he needed to shut up. 

Morgana nodded, her nose bobbing into and out of her scarf. “Yeah, you did mention.” 

They walked the rest of the way to the pub in silence. 

Merlin was already they waiting when they walked in. His coat was somewhere, and his face was flushed, a smile wide across his face. He was leaning across the bar, talking to the bartender as Arthur and Morgana approached him. There didn’t seem to be anyone with him. Arthur touched him on the shoulder, and Merlin turned suddenly. 

“Arthur!” he said, so loudly and joyfully that Arthur wondered if he was already drunk. “Sorry, I only just got here, work was crazy today. And—Morgana?” He looked between Arthur and his sister, his face caught between surprise and bemusement. 

“Oh, yeah, this is my sister.” Arthur made to introduce her, but she was unwrapping her scarf from around her face. “I take it that you two know each other?” 

“Yeah, we work together,” Merlin said, slowly, his eyes still fixed on Morgana. When he finally managed to tear his eyes away from her, he offered a small, almost pained, smile to Arthur. “What a small world, isn’t it? Drinks?”


End file.
